


Celebrations

by Persiflage



Category: Law & Order: UK
Genre: Character of Color, F/M, Gift Fic, Relationship(s), Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-03
Updated: 2011-01-03
Packaged: 2017-10-14 09:28:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/147817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persiflage/pseuds/Persiflage
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Given James' track record, a relationship between him and Alesha isn't necessarily going to be plain sailing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Celebrations

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Blacksquirrel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Blacksquirrel/gifts).



> Written for Blacksquirrel (for yuletide), who stated _I would love some smart, intense, perhaps slightly clumsy James/Alesha, but I would also take them being competent and awesome and friendshippy together._ I hope this comes close to the first part!  
>  **Spoilers:** None  
>  **Disclaimer:** ITV owns Law  & Order: UK (if *I* owned it, we'd have at least got ONE kiss!)

For all his polished performances in court, James Steel is not always the most polished of lovers. Alesha wonders if he's always been like this with women, or if it's just her that he gets so clumsy around. They're in George's office, discussing the successful conclusion of their latest case when she gets her latest example of James' lack of polish.

"So, what are you two lovebirds doing for tomorrow?" asks George genially.

James frowns. "Tomorrow?" he asks, glancing at the calendar.

George looks baffled. "It's Valentine's Day," he says. "Don't tell me you'd forgotten?"

"Oh, no, of course not," James says quickly, shooting a sidelong glance at Alesha, who immediately realises that he had, in fact, completely forgotten. She gives him a bland look, and he looks a little ashamed. "Alesha and I will be having a romantic dinner at home," he tells George.

The older man glances over at her, and she gives him the same bland look, because even if she is slightly irked with James for forgetting, she's too loyal to her lover to let George know that.

"Sounds very nice," he says, but Alesha can hear a faint note of doubt in his voice.

"I'm sure it will be," she says. "James is a good cook."

George nods. "Well, you did good work today, both of you, so well done. I'll see tomorrow."

They get up and head back through to their own office, and Alesha notices that James shuts George's door behind him as he follows her. She sits at her desk and James comes to stand beside her.

"I had forgotten," he says, "I'm sorry."

"I know you had," she tells him. "I figured that out straight away."

He runs a hand through his hair in an uncharacteristic gesture. "I really am completely rubbish, aren't I?"

"Yup," she agrees cheerfully. Seeing he still looks remorseful, she grabs his wrist and pulls him down to her level. "You can make it up to me by taking me out for dinner at the weekend," she suggests. "After all, the restaurants will be over-crowded and the prices artificially high tomorrow night, but by Friday, it'll all be quiet and back to normal again." She gives him a quick kiss on the mouth. "But you'd better cook me something really nice tomorrow night, and I want candles too."

He smirks. "Yes ma'am." He gives her a mock salute, then leans in for a deeper kiss.

When he releases her she puts her hand on his chest and pushes a little. "Go on with you."

He grins, then gets up and goes over to his desk, glancing over at her with a cheeky smile when he sees she's watching him, and she shakes her head.

"Incorrigible man," she tells him, which just makes him grin even more as he begins gathering his things together.

She turns off the computer, then takes her bag, scarf and beret from the bottom drawer of her desk; she pulls on her coat, then wraps the scarf around her neck and settles her beret on her head. She walks over to the door and James joins her there, equally as bundled up against the cold.

"Here," he says, pulling some strands of her hair free of her scarf.

"Thanks." She looks up at him. "Chinese, my place?"

"I'd love to," he answers.

She nods, then leads the way along the corridor to the lifts.

* * * * * *

James' 40th birthday is in early June and Alesha begins making plans weeks before, arranging with George that they'll be able to have some time off together to make a long weekend of it. She books them on a city break, arranges flights and accommodation, and even books a restaurant table in Paris for the day.

Two days before they're due to go away she is sitting in the office, working through a pile of paperwork when James breezes in from a visit to see Natalie and Ronnie at MIU.

"Hey, guess what?" he says, dumping his bag on his chair and reaching out to turn on his PC.

"What?" she asks, glancing up briefly so he knows she's listening.

"We're going out for drinks on Thursday night with Ronnie, Natalie and Matt – to celebrate my birthday." Alesha gapes at him. "What?" he asks, rather tetchily.

She closes her mouth and swallows. "I've made other plans," she says weakly.

"Oh. Well if you don't want to come, we can always do something together on Friday," he says, his tone grumpier now.

She opens her mouth to speak, but is forestalled by George walking in with a sheaf of papers.

"What's wrong?" he asks, obviously sensing the tension in the room.

"Nothing," Alesha answers.

James shakes his head, scowling. "What can we do for you, George?"

George looks from one to the other, then shakes his own head. "This has just come through from Strickson's lawyer."

He holds out the papers and James takes them, glancing through them quickly, then passes them back. "Alesha can deal with that," he says. "George, do you want to join me and Natalie and Ronnie, and some others for drinks on Thursday night – we're celebrating my birthday." He shoots an irritated look at Alesha. "Some of us, anyway."

George looks startled and slightly flustered. "I thought – " he begins.

"Thought what?" asks James, his tone indicating that he expects George to accept.

"Didn't you have other plans?" the older man asks Alesha.

"Yes. I hadn't told him yet, though."

"That's what I thought." George turns to look at James, who's looking increasingly sour. "Did you ask Alesha what her plans are?"

"No. She doesn't have to tell me, if she doesn't want to."

George glances between the two lovers, then walks over and gives Alesha the paperwork. "I'll leave you to it," he says quietly.

James drops his bag onto the floor with an audible thump, then sits down and begins to work in a pointed silence. Alesha sighs softly, then takes her bag from the bottom drawer of her desk, and extracts a handful of things which she takes over to James' desk.

"This is what I had planned," she says, fanning out the paperwork of plane tickets, and hotel and restaurant booking confirmations across his desk. She turns to walk back to her own desk, but James grabs her wrist lightly, staring down at the papers she's spread out.

"You did all this for me?" he asks, his voice shaky.

"Yes," she says simply.

"Why?"

Alesha rolls her eyes. "Because it's not every day you have a fortieth birthday, is it?"

"You didn't say anything."

"I was going to tell you tonight over dinner," she answers.

"Oh." He looks up from the paperwork to give her a smile. "Thank you." He puts an arm around her waist and pulls her to sit on his lap. "Thank you very much Alesha." He kisses her at length, then jumps when the phone rings and nearly jolts her off his lap.

She laughs and gets up. "Better get on with it," she says, and he nods, then reaches out for the phone.

* * * * * *

James might not be the most polished of lovers or the most brilliant at remembering things like booking a table for Valentine's Day in advance, but very often he's the most intense lover Alesha's known.

They arrive in Paris at 6pm, giving them an hour and a half to unpack and get settled before they have to be at the restaurant for dinner.

"You, Ms Phillips, are my favourite person," he tells her as she unlocks the door of their suite with the electronic key.

"Unlike two days ago," she teases, pushing the door open.

Before she can step inside, James picks her up, causing her to utter a stifled shriek of surprise, and carries her across the threshold, leaving their bags by the door.

"James!" she protests, laughing.

"What?" he growls as he carries her through the sitting room and into the practically palatial bedroom.

"You're a nut," she says as he sets her down by the bed.

"And you're gorgeous," he says, kissing her hard, one large hand holding the back of her head.

"Bags," she gasps when he lets her go. "They're by the door."

"Don't move from that spot," he orders, then strides out.

"Phew!" Alesha mutters, sitting down on the end of the bed, despite his orders, because she's feeling a bit weak-kneed by his sudden display of assertiveness. Since they became lovers he's generally been gentle and tender with her, often allowing her to take charge because of her experience with Merrick. She has enjoyed being in control, not because she wants to dominate him particularly, but because it's allowed her to see a side of him which she suspects he rarely shows; at work he's nearly always the one in control, which is only right since he's the senior prosecutor, so it makes a change to see him yield that control to her.

James comes in carrying both their bags, the key card between his fingers. He raises his eyebrows when he sees that she's sitting down, but he doesn't comment. He puts the bags down, drops the key card onto the top of the chest of drawers, and advances on her with a look of determination.

"Hello," she says, smirking up at him. She can see that he's aroused and that both pleases and excites her.

"You moved," he says in a stern tone.

"I sat down," she counters.

"You still moved." He puts his hands on his hips, which just serves to emphasise his arousal, and she runs her tongue over her lips. "I think I should punish you for that."

Alesha raises her eyebrows, intrigued. "What are you going to do, spank me?" she asks, genuinely curious.

"Maybe," he answers, and she grins, suddenly realising that he is very much playing this by ear.

"I did bring some scarves with me," she observes. Usually her scarves get used to tie up James, but she thinks that she wouldn't mind it if he turns the tables.

"Stay there," he says and she gives him a mock salute, then watches as he turns to their bags and, pulling out their keys, delves into her case to find the neatly folded scarves she's brought with her.

Turning back to her, he gestures at the head of the very large bed. "Lie down with your hands on the bars."

She crawls up the bed, perfectly well aware that he's watching her and noting the way her short summer skirt barely covers her arse in such a position. She stretches out on her back and grasps the fancy metalwork at the head of the bed, watching avidly as he crawls up the bed after her, then straddles her body to tie her wrists securely.

Once he's finished, and before he can move away, she casually lifts her right knee and rubs her leg against his crotch, laughing when he nearly leaps off the bed in surprise.

"Alesha Phillips," he growls, "you are a bad, bad girl."

She laughs again. "It's more fun than being a good girl," she tells him.

He climbs off the bed and fixes his gaze on her as he slowly undresses, and she watches, barely conscious of the fact that she's growing wet with desire. Once he's naked, he climbs back onto the bed and kneels beside her, presumably so that she can't repeat her earlier trick. She wonders how long he'll hold off on penetrating her; there's already pre-cum leaking from the head of his cock, and he looks almost painfully hard.

He unbuttons her shirt in a leisurely manner, pushing the material aside to reveal her already bare breasts (she doesn't often wear a bra, especially in summer), then reaches down to pinch one of her hard nipples.

"Oh!" she gasps as a bolt of pleasure shoots from her breast to her groin.

James shifts sideways so that he can lower his head easily to suck on one nipple while he fondles her other breast.

"James!" She begins to squirm, rubbing her thighs together until he grabs one of her legs and holds it still.

"I'll tie your ankles as well if I have to," he tells her.

"Oh god," she whispers.

His expression becomes concerned, and Alesha realises that he's worried that he's gone too far with that threat; she gives him a reassuring smile, and he becomes stern again.

"Are you going to keep still?"

"I'll try," she says, panting slightly.

He nods, then resumes his attentions to her breasts, using his hands and mouth to drive her to an orgasm.

"Bloody hell," she mutters when she's caught her breath again. James grins at her in a rather triumphant manner, and she attempts a scowl, which makes him grin even wider.

"I'm going to have my wicked way with you now," he informs her, returning to his stern manner as he pushes her skirt up and pulls off her very damp ivory coloured knickers.

"Please master, be gentle," she says, wondering if he wants her to beg.

"I might," he says. He pushes her legs apart and shifts to kneel between them. Alesha's impressed that he's got enough self-control to wait this long before getting to this point.

He looks up the bed at her and she can see, beneath the stern manner he's adopted, that he's checking that she's comfortable with their role-playing.

"Fuck me!" she growls, deciding to encourage him, then moans when he pushes his rigid cock into her slick heat.

James isn't very gentle, but he doesn't actually hurt her either; he holds her bent knees apart as he thrusts in and out of her, still kneeling between her legs, but after she comes again, he switches to the missionary position, until he climaxes too.

He remains on top of her, his head in the crook of her neck, and breathing heavily, for a few minutes, then rolls off her and sits up to untie her wrists.

"All right?" he asks, his tone now more gentle and tender than stern.

"Yes." She pushes him to lie down and snuggles up against him, heedless of the fact her clothes are badly crumpled. "You?"

"Definitely." He kisses the top of her head. "Thank you."

"For what?" she asks.

"For letting me play the macho lover," he elaborates.

She laughs softly. "Well, it is your birthday."

"Mm, true."

They lie there for a few minutes, then decide that they should shower before they dress for dinner.

"Just because Paris is the city of lovers, there's no need to go to dinner reeking of sex," James observes, and Alesha laughs.

"Come on then, Mr Birthday Boy." She holds out her hand and he smirks, then lets her lead him into the bathroom for a joint shower and some more fun. James might be forty, she reflects, but he's a very virile man with plenty of energy and stamina, and she considers it's just as likely that he will wear her out this weekend, as vice-versa. Not that she minds, so long as it's fun for both of them.


End file.
